


settle down in this thunder, lay your soul in this bed

by teruhvighnen



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not kind to Sylvie, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 14:35:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19021921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teruhvighnen/pseuds/teruhvighnen
Summary: Of course, it has to be in the middle of Claude's...private time when the-powers-that-be decide it's a good time to send him back to 1998, where he meets 21-year old Danny.





	settle down in this thunder, lay your soul in this bed

**Author's Note:**

> Claude's time-travelling powers is kind of like Time-Traveller's Wife, like it just makes him go, but he can take clothes with him, lmao
> 
> yo i wrote this in 2013, and then i was gonna post it during the playoffs this year cuz i found it in some old files lmao but then i forgot so. 
> 
> i don't remember anything from 2013 so dont @ me

**_ Massachusetts, November 1998 _ **

Danny Briere is 21 years old, although he doesn’t look like it. He has bags under his eyes. His body is strained more so than any normal hockey player. He is clearly stressed out by something other than failure and loss. 

He’s driving to an apartment 45 minutes from the MassMutual Center with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company. The drive is silent, somewhat calming, all too lonely. But Danny’s not complaining. Between the roar of the crowd during games and the crying of the baby at home, silence is a welcomed guest. 

Danny is happy though. He’s playing professional hockey when everyone said he couldn’t, not with his size. He has a baby when said him and Sylvie would never work. Danny is happy, he supposes. 

Though there is something else that he feels, he’s not sure what it is yet, but it’s there nagging at him, deep within his mind. Something not quite like content, but not hatred. Something akin to fear. But of what, he has no idea.

The ride home is 45 minutes of self-preservation.

**_ Hearst, July 2013 _ **

Summer is going great. No cup, and Danny got traded, but it’s all right, Claude can soldier on. Danny says Claude is strong like that, has the making s  of a great leader because of it. 

Claude misses Danny, is disappointed for not bringing them to the playoffs, and is sorry for not trying to keep Danny in Philadelphia. 

Claude love s  Danny but has never gotten the chance to tell him, although the fault would be Claude’s for being too damn cowardly to say anything. And now he’ll never have a change. Claude’s not clear on how or why, but ever since he stepped inside the Wells Fargo –then Wachovia- he had always been attracted to Danny in ways he could never explain. Then when Danny invited him to come live with his family, Claude brought upon himself the most painful beginning of something that could never be, of something that would always make him feel so incomplete because he could never have it. 

So many years have come and gone, and Claude  has  surrender ed  to his fate. His lonely, self-pleasuring fate.

Claude’s cleaning himself up in the bathroom of his childhood bedroom at his parents’ house when he feels it.

“Oh, come on! I just got off!” He protests, feeling his body disintegrate from this time...and well, reintegrate into another time and place. He grabs the towel from where it is  on  the sink counter just in time before he feels the damning cold of winter.

He groans, “No. I was enjoying summer. Fuck!”

**_ Massachusetts, November 1998 _ **

He coughs from the chill of the cold and wraps the towel around his hips. Claude’s confused, and furious, and most of all, freezing. He can see houses and apartment buildings around him and the light snowfall under his soon-to-be frostbitten feet. He starts walking, if only to get the feeling in his toes back. The night covers him and his naked chest, which he’s thankful for. Imagine being in broad daylight. He’d look like a pervert. 

“Fuck,” he swears. His teeth are chattering as he tries to warm his hands by rubbing them together and blowing warm air into them. There’s a light coming closer and Claude, well there’s nowhere for him to hide so he crouches down. The car is coming closer. 

“Please, not the police, please, not the police,” he starts chanting because he’s had to deal with this before, more naked that time, and it was not fun at all.

Claude looks up when the car stops right in front of him and then he chances to look at the drive and almost falls back onto the cold fallen snow. 

“Holy shit, Danny,” Claude whispers, and he’s not that transparent because Danny raises his eyebrows at him. 

“Excuse me?” Danny asks. “What...why? It’s cold,” is what Danny ends up saying. 

Claude smiles, despite the bone-chilling air and the whole situation. Danny is so young, possibly younger than Claude now. Danny looks tired, bereft of the unequivocal sparkle in his eyes, one of the many reasons Claude’s in love with him. 

“What?” Claude echoes.

“You said Danny. How do you know who I am?”

Claude’s eyes widen, thinks  _ oh shit _ , and then mumbles curses under his breath.

“Who...who doesn’t know who you are! You’re Danny Briere from the uh...”

“The Falcons, yeah.”

Claude’s taken aback again. The Falcons, he thinks, the Springfield fucking Falcons. And the Falcons means 1998, and a  ten year old  Claude somewhere in Canada, dicking around playing hockey on a frozen pond.

But 1998 also means Danny’s a dad, still so new to everything. And his tired eyes reflect it all.

“I’m sorry, are you okay? Who are you?” 

Claude snaps out of his reverie and holds his hand out to Danny.

“Uh,  big  fan of yours. I’m in my towel, this is super embarrassing,” Claude starts and Danny does shake his hand.

“Need help?” Danny asks with genuine concern and Claude wants to say yes so loud and hug Danny but instead he just nods shyly.

“I have extra clothes if that helps?”

Claude nods again. God, what is wrong with him right now?

“Uh, get in then.”

“Claude does as Danny fishes out  a Nike shirt and Falcon sweatpants  from his bag in the backseat. 

It’s five minutes before they get to his apartment but they talk. Danny asks him about his situation which Claude obviously lies about. Claude says his girlfriend kicked him out of the house in his towel and Danny stares at him, a look Claude is familiar with from an older version of Danny’s face. Danny said he’s 21 years old and Claude has the urge to bang his head on the dash when he begrudgingly says he’s 25.

Danny is, so young. And Claude is so, so screwed.

Danny takes off his Falcons hoodie and hands it to Claude as they walk up to  Danny’s  apartment.

“My wife and child are probably sleeping so...”

“Oh, right, yeah.”

Claude sighs quietly. Yes, of course, Danny’s still married.

“Sylvie’s probably sleeping with  Caelan  on the bed. Uh, you can take the guest room then. I’ll be on the couch,” Danny offers, always the hospitable asshole. Claude thinks with much contempt, too Canadian.

“No way, man. You play hockey, you need the comfortable rest. I’ll sleep on the couch,” Claude counters, exercising his newfound Captain tone. And Danny seems too tired to fight, just relents, and walks to the guest room.

“Good night, Danny,” Claude belatedly says, but Danny turns around anyway.

“Good night, uh...”

“Claude.”

“Good night then, Claude.”

There is a force in this universe, Claude doesn’t know what or who, but he believes it bestowed upon him this ability, this curse and blessing all at once. Claude also believes that whatever the force is, it evidently trusts Claude with this gift. Claude only gives the same trust back because everywhere Claude has been, every time zone, every past or present or future, there is one sure thing: it isn’t in vain.

And  so  Claude presumes the same here too. This time where Danny is at his most vulnerable, held together by mere faith and utter love, made strong by the belief in a better tomorrow.

There is something wrong with this picture that Claude has stumbled upon. There is always something wrong and Claude knows he can fix it. After all, he wouldn’t be here if everything was as perfect as it seems.

Claude wakes up to the sound of Danny’s name being said over and over, borderline nagging him. Then, Claude remembers.

Sylvie.

This is the woman whom Danny loved, made Danny love her, gave Danny a family.

She is the one who tore it apart, made Danny weak, made Danny unable to love again.

“Danny, someone is on the couch. What did you do last night?”

Danny, silent and sly as ever, pipes up from where he’s carrying a baby, “That’s Claude...a. ..uh ...friend. He needed somewhere to stay.”

Sylvie smiles at Claude, and he knows this smile; she’s given it to him back in his own time. Her smile is a façade and Claude  wonders  how long their eventual destruction has really been brewing, wonders if the matrix of it all didn’t already happen the moment Danny met Sylvie.

“Here, give  Caelan  to me. And help your friend,” Sylvie demands and Danny reluctantly gives up  Caelan  to her. Claude can see the way Danny deflates at the loss of having the child in his arms.  Caelan , and later Carson and Cameron, will always be the ones Danny loves the most, above hockey, above everything else, above Sylvie, even above Claude. But Claude’s totally fine with that, because  reality  check, he loves the boys more than anything too. 

“ D’you  want breakfast?”

Claude grins, “Sure. Thank you.”

“We h a ve uh...” Danny looks around, whipping his head from  cupboard  to cupboard, looking into the f ri dge and concluding with nothing.

“Baby formula? Oh, Danny. Do you have bread and cheese? I make a mean grilled cheese,” Claude offers politely. Danny nods and fetches both ingredients, then watches the master at work.

“ So  tell me about yourself. I did tell my wife you were a friend, least I could know is anything about you.”

Claude sets the pan and stars toasting the bread on it. Without looking away, he starts talking.

“I play hockey.”

Danny beams from where he’s sitting.

“For?”

“Um, just a beer league. I’ve played hockey all my life but my passion is making grilled cheese,” Claude wiggles his eyebrows at Danny as he sprinkles grated cheese onto the bread. 

“Right.”

There’s a lull in conversation as Claude finishes Danny’s grilled cheese and Danny’s face absolutely lights up when he takes one bite. Claude has seen this awe in his face before but it’s still fulfilling. The thought that he makes Danny feel awestruck like that, like when he scores a goal and he immediately gets lost in Danny’s proud embrace. Claude could spend his days evincing this kind of confidence from Danny. 

“You’re good,” Danny compliments and Claude sends him a toothless grin, “I dabble.”

“Hockey, eh?” Danny asks, pointing to where Claude lost his tooth. Danny laughs when Claude confirms it.

“Danny, I’m going out for groceries. I’ll be back later. Don’t forget to feed  Caelan , and change him, and put him down for a nap,” Sylvie rambles as she enters the room looking through her purse for the car keys. Danny looks away from Claude and the grilled cheese, cuts  their  laughing shorts and nods at Sylvie.

“I do know how to take care of a baby, Sylvie.”

“Well,” Sylvie starts and then eyes him. “Just making sure.”

Claude is dying to roll his eyes at her but bites his lips instead. And if he curls his fingers into a fist behind his back, well, no one’s the wiser.

“Okay, I’m off. See you later,” Sylvie trails as she walks to the door.

“Be safe, love you,” Danny responds but is met with only the door shutting and then the apartment’s silent. Danny looks a moment too long at the closed door before Claude attempts to get them back to the state where Danny’s laughing, take him from this sullen Danny that Claude wants to take in his arms and never let go of until all his worries and fears vanish away.

Claude hears  Caelan’s  crying and then Danny gets up from his chair to walk  briskly  to the bedroom. Claude stays to finish his grilled cheese and then wait quietly until Danny comes back out, cradling a near finished sobbing  Caelan . Danny’s smiling widely, despite the baby’s troubles. 

“I think he’s hungry. Do you know how to...?” Claude immediately shakes his head. Claude is more adequate with children above the age of two, especially in the feeding department.

“I can take him though, and you can make a bottle,” Claude volunteers. “I’m good with babies. Like, holding them and stuff.” He is. He can hold nieces and nephews and teammates’ babies. Feed, burp, change, well...he’s still learning.

“Oh god, thank you.”

Danny passes  Caelan  off to Claude who bounces him in his arms a little.

“Hi, Cae, it’s me, it’s G,” he whispers because this Danny doesn’t know him yet; this Danny isn’t his best friend yet.

“So how old is he?”

Danny immediately says, “Soon to be four months.” Danny seems to be the person who forgets drills in practice when he’s tired, but talks about his kids like he knows and is aware of everything. Claude is so far gone for Danny; he’s at the point of no return.

Claude revels in it. “Wow.” He takes a moment and then, “So, day off huh?”

“Yup. Coach wanted us all to fuck off after losing last night.” Danny checks the temperature of the milk against his skin and then decides it’s okay.

“Here,” he instructs and Claude carefully passes the baby back as Danny finds a comfortable spot on the couch.

Claude sits down beside him, always more content when he’s  close  to Danny.

He’s looking at Danny but Danny is staring lovingly at  Caelan  and that’s all right because this is Claude’s favorite view. Where the love and the pride and the joy are all so evident in Danny’s dark eyes, how his eyes seem to twinkle with delight. Claude’s halfway accepted that Danny will never look at him that way, but as long as Danny still has the fire in his eyes, and passion in his smile, Claude will take anything he can get.

Claude sees the scar on Danny’s face, the long one near his chin.

“Hockey too, eh?” Claude asks, and Danny looks up questioningly. Claude bravely trails his finger to touch it, ghosting over the scar.

“Oh, no. That would be less embarrassing to talk about if it was from hockey.”

Claude frowns, “So where’s it from?”

“A fight.”

“With Sylvie?” Claude gasps, but Danny just chuckles and looks back down at his kid.

“No, but...”

Claude gets it then this reluctance that Danny has because Claude is just a mere stranger, plucked from the not-so-gracious cold night.

“I know we don’t know each other, but please believe me when I say you can trust me.”

Danny looks at him, somehow lost, “I do. I don’t know why, but I do.  Trust  you. I was drinking. A lot. And then some guy said something I didn’t like, I don’t even remember what it was, but there was a fight and I got cut in the face with broken glass.”

“When?”

Danny doesn’t seem to think about it, just answers, “When I found out I was  gonna  be the father to this little boy,” he paused to smile at  Caelan . “I was scared, worried, so afraid I wouldn’t be enough for him, for Sylvie. Because I wasn’t even enough for myself. I wasn’t even the biggest player or the fastest or the smartest. I was just  afraid  I was going to let him down eventually.”

Claude has the deepest urge to slap Danny, but it is eclipsed by urge to embrace Danny instead and tell him that he loves him.

Claude sits closer so that he can feel Danny’s warmth. He puts a hand over where Danny’s hand has  Caelan  supported, and says, with great unbridled certainty, “You are enough. You keep thinking you’ll let him down, or disappoint him, or fall short of protecting him. Listen to me, Daniel Briere. You will be the best father in the entire universe. You’ll teach him things others will never be able to. You’ll love him your way with all your heart and it will be enough. You are enough, you are more than enough. You’re my best friend, Danny Briere. And you will be...you  _ are _  amazing. P l ease know that, please believe it.”

Danny has tears in his eyes, tears that Claude wipes away.

“What are you...who are you...?” Danny asks, muttering, so confused and Claude starts swearing internally again.  _ Shit,  _ he can feel it. He can feel his body leaving and he can’t leave, not now.

Claude leans over closer, “I don’t know what this will change in the future, but,” Claude chances it, throws caution to the wind, embraces reckless abandon and kisses Danny. Just for a moment. But one that could last lifetimes. Claude feels everything in that kiss, feels the world, feels the weight of the world vanish, feels every moment he spent crying and hating himself like they’re worth it. Just to get this from Danny.

He closes his eyes. 

Time rewrites itself. History rewrites itself.

And then he’s gone.

**_ Hearst, July 2013 _ **

Claude feels a headache at the base of his skull when he comes back. His bedroom is as he left it. And his mom is calling him from downstairs about breakfast. He’s back in his towel, somewhat miserable that Danny’s clothes didn’t stay with him, but...Claude groans... them’s  the breaks.

“Be right there!” He calls back and puts on a pair of actual pants and an old Flyers shirt. He pockets his phone, not bothering to look at it.

He’s sitting, eating bacon, when it buzzes over and over, and when he looks, there’s about 30 messages all from the Briere bunch.

[ Caelan  8:12 am]

Cloooo  when are u coming to Gat?

[Cam 8:16 am]

We miss u! Hurry  uuuup !!!!

[Cam 8:17 am]

Please 🙂

[Carson 8:20 am]

Dad’s being a weirdo hurry ur ass down here

Claude can guess the rest of the messages, deletes them, but stops at Danny’s text, or who he assumes is Danny because:

[ Chéri  9:12 am] 

Miss u, kids r annoying. Help me pls

Which, what the fuck? Who changed it from Danny to  Chéri ? Was it his stupid sister?  Oh  he bets it was his stupid sister. Damn, he should have never told her about his unrequited love. 

[ Chéri 9:12 am]

Babe. Seriously, they r driving me crazy. Come help. Love you

Please

If you don’t  hurry  I'm divorcing ur ginger ass

[ Caelan  9:23 am]

Dad won’t divorce ur ginger ass btw. Too much work. BUT SRSLY. GATINEAU NOW! CLAUDE GIROUX-BRIERE!

Ps pls don’t make me call u dad. It's  kinda  weird. Sorry. We luv u  tho

There’s only one more new message that says:

[Cam 10:04 am]

Ur not dead  ryt ? Pls reply if alive. so that dad is alive too. Thanks g

The thing about time travelling is that it comes with memories.  Certain inscrutable memories that are stored in his mind. He remembers everything; in weird jumbled asynchronous ways. His memories are not chronological. He remembers going to Springfield but everything in his life has changed since then, since he took that bold chance to kiss Danny.

There are his memories from a time when he was too scared to tell Danny how he really feels. 

Except, he has memories from this reality too. And he’s piecing this reality back together when he gets another text. His mom glares at him, asks him to put it away, but it’s okay, he knows from whom it is anyway.

He’s sitting on his bed, letting time catch up with him and vice versa when he gets all the memories in his mind. He lights up and blushes furiously from embarrassment. 

He remembers. He was the one who changed it to  Chéri  last year when they got married.

[ Chéri  10:44am]

Sry  for being  naggy . I just miss u a lot. Come home pls

To  Chéri 10:46 am

Booking ticket now. See you soon. I love you

Oh, it feels so good to be able to express without restraints, without fears, without consequences.

[ Chéri  10:4 8 am]

I love you too.

To say it, to mean it, to have Danny say it back is the greatest feeling in the world. 

**_ Philadelphia, June 2010 _ **

Claude has nerves. His leg is shaking, he clenches and relaxes his fists repeatedly.

Danny sits beside him and places a hand on his shaking leg. It calms Claude down, unsurprisingly.

“What’s wrong? We’re here, we’re in the finals, Claude! We’re two wins away from the Cup!”

Claude keeps his eyes to his skates, “Just nervous. A lot nervous. I can’t do this. What if we lose? What if we fail?”

Danny takes Claude’s hands, never mind the team, never mind the haters, never mind the rest of the fucking world. Danny tangles their hands, intertwines their fingers perfectly as if his hand was made to rest in Danny’s own.

“When I was 21, there was this thing that happened to me. It’s the kind of memory where I’m not sure if it happened or if I dreamt it but you were there. And you said: Danny, you’re enough, you will be amazing, you are amazing.

And I've never forgotten that. Even if it was real, even if it was a dream, it doesn’t matter. What you said to me was real, I believed in it. It’s what got me here. Claude. And it’s time I say it back to you, eh.

Claude Giroux, you are the greatest person I know. You’re destined for greatness. You can do anything you put your mind into. You can be the best. Just believe in it.”

Claude tightens his hold on Danny’s hand, “Danny, I. ..How  do you know? How are you sure?”

Danny shushes him, “There’s one more thing: I believe in you. I love you. So even if you succeed or you fail, you’ll still be the best to me.”

Claude’s whole body stops, and the only thing he can think to do is hug Danny. And he does.

They go out there, they play. They play through overtime. And they cry through the handshake line. 

But Claude goes home with Danny and every blow of losing the Cup is softened by Danny’s presence and love.

And somewhere in the distance, 25  year old  Claude is watching his younger self walk into a house full of support and care. He doesn’t only think, but he knows that everything will all be okay. 


End file.
